"That great seigneur who once so shamefully outraged my husband?" cried Madam Desmarais in surprise. "Monsieur Plouernel," Charlotte asked, "the descendant of that ancient family of warrior Franks which has done so much injury to your plebeian stock?" "Precisely. By a strange fatality, he picked a fight with me last night. I thought I had killed him, but he was only stunned. This morning when Monsieur Plouernel had sufficiently regained his senses and strength, I conducted him to the threshold of our house. The porter, recognizing my voice, opened the street door to the Emigrant. Now let the justice of men be done; I can not denounce an enemy defeated and wounded." At this moment advocate Desmarais stepped into the parlor, cordially tendering his hand to Lebrenn, and saying: "Good day, my dear friend, my worthy _pupil_." Then passing to the young artisan a paper he held in his hand, the lawyer added: "Read that aloud, my dear John." Charlotte's betrothed read as follows: "Citizen colleague: "I announce to you the marriage of my daughter, Charlotte Desmarais, to Citizen John Lebrenn, the iron worker. "The vows of the two as husband and wife will be received by the municipal officer of the Section of the Pikes, on the day that the head of Louis Capet the tyrant falls on the scaffold. "Fraternal greetings, "BRUTUS DESMARAIS. "December 12, year One of the Republic one and indivisible." "That is a copy of the circular letter I have just addressed to my colleagues of the Convention, to invite them to your wedding with my daughter. What do you say to the phrasing of my missive, and especially to the time chosen for your wedding?" "My God!" thought Madam Desmarais with a shudder, "the fate of Louis XVI aroused my husband's pity, and still he chooses the day of that prince's execution to marry our daughter upon. What abominable hypocrisy!" And Madam Desmarais left the parlor. "You ask me, Citizen Desmarais, what I think of your letter of invitation, and of the time set for my union with Charlotte; I reply to you, in all sincerity, that I extremely regret that you chose the day of the execution of Louis XVI for our marriage." "And I, father, hold with John." "I suspect you, my daughter, of being a little royalist," replied the lawyer in a bitter-sweet tone; "and as to you, my dear pupil, I did not believe it necessary to remind you that the day a King's head falls into the basket is a festive day, a day of joy for all good patriots." "Citizen Desmarais, did I sit in the Convention I would have voted for the death of Louis XVI, as a perjurer and a conspirer against the nation. But the day when the glaive of the law strikes the last of the Kings will not be a day of joy for the Republic." "And what will it be, then, O my pupil? A day of mourning, perhaps?"